It was her. It had to be. The black hair, the thin lips, pressed together in a tight line. The hair was long -- not like hers -- but it had the same glistening dullness, the same mild thickness, bone straight and bluish at the ends. Her eyes were shut, her forehead creased in what looked like deep concentration, or maybe even pain -- more likely the latter, given her conditions. Her shirt, once whole, hung loosely off her thin frame, torn at the shoulders and ripped more than once across the back. Strapped around her waist were faded shorts, no doubt long pants at one time, shredded and slashed into almost more than one piece. Her arms and legs were bruised from countless beatings, and various gashes bled freely on her shoulders and neck, dried blood mingling with the beads of sweat on her forehead. She had one hand balled into a fist and pressed firmly against her right temple; the other wrapped tensely around her knees, which were held against her chest. And there she sat, curled into a defensive ball in the darkest corner of the cell, looking more fragile than a sheet of glass and more hurt than a reprimanded dog with it's tail between it's legs.
But it couldn't be her. It wasn't possible. She was dead. She had left the mansion and she hadn't come back. They'd looked everywhere; even Cerebro couldn't find her. She had been wiped completely off the face of the Earth itself. She looked younger, helpless, delicate; completely opposite of what she used to be. If it was her at all.
From outside the cage, it almost looked as if the cell was empty. The girl had pressed herself as far into the dark corner as she could. All that was left visible were a few dismal features on her once lively face, softly highlighted by the dimmed lights hanging from the ceiling. John's eyes were wide as he watched her, his breathing labored, his knuckles white as he clamped them around the metal bars of the cage. Without taking his eyes off the huddled figure, he brought a hand over to the wall next to the cell and opened the top to the keypad that lay there. The cap flipped open with a faint click, and blindly he punched in the numbers 58226 before bringing his hand down to wrap once again around the steel rods in front of him. He half-consciously noticed the gate next to him open with the soft 'clang' of metal hitting metal, and almost reluctantly tore his gaze away from the girl to stumble inside the cell.
The door remained open as John staggered into the dim-lit cage. The girl had not moved; her eyes were still tightly shut, her arm holding her legs against her chest. Her right hand continued to press firmly against her temple, and she showed no signs of even knowing that someone had entered the room. John found that he preferred it that way; he didn't know what to do in the first place.
Slowly, silently, John kneeled down in front of the curled up figure, tentatively reaching out a hand to rest on the girl's shaking arm. She drew back violently, wrenching away from the touch as if it was poison, and snapped her head up to face the shocked boy. Fear etched itself into her face, her wide blue eyes rimmed with panic as she squeezed herself farther into the corner. John held his hands back, afraid of hurting her, and looked into the girl's eyes, looking for any trace of humanity, a trace of life, of heart and soul.
He found it. And he knew.
"...Cory?"
The girl's head rose up, her gaze having drifted to the floor tiles not long before. Her mouth twitched down into a thoughtful frown and her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to grab at a memory that lie just our of her reach. Bright irises, still edged with terror, flickered with what John thought was recognition, but his doubting mind pushed the trivial idea from his head; until, of course, the girl he thought he knew reached for his hand...
"I always knew you'd betray us, Pyro."
Simultaneously, John and the girl's heads snapped in the direction of the voice, John still kneeling and the girl's hand continuing to hover over his own. The boy's eyes widened as they caught sight of an old man, graying hair slicked back from his forehead and a purple and red cape flowing down from his shoulders. A shudder ran up John's spine, and he stood shakily, sidestepping in front of the girl, who hadn't moved.
"Hey, Mags," he said, forcing his voice to stay even and nonchalant. Magneto merely frowned.
"You're planning on leaving, aren't you, boy?"
"Now, why would I go and do a thing like that? Where else would I go?" John mentally cursed himself for sounding so desperate. Was he that transparent? He flashed a sadistic smirk in an attempt to cover his nervousness.
"Oh, to the mansion, perhaps? I don't doubt that was your intention."
"It wasn't," John replied, rather coldly. His eyes strained to sneak a glimpse at the girl, Cory, his Cory, but he knew it would be risking too much. Then again, Magneto already knew, so what did it matter? He had been planning to return to the mansion, and he had every intention of taking Cory, the girl beside him, along with him; but how had Magneto known? Was it just a lucky guess?
"It's no use lying to me, boy," Magneto sneered, crossing his arms across his chest. "I can see right through you. You got fed up with our little experiments, and decided to try and end our progress once and for all by running back to the same man you ran away from."
"You call this progress?!" John snapped angrily. He was well aware of the fact that he had just proved Magneto's suspicion correct, but at this point he was beyond caring. "This is a human being, Eric. Not an experiment, not a test. She's one of us! She's a mutant, damnit, how the hell can you do this to one of your own kind?!"
"It's for our own good, John. Don't you see it? By working on one of our own kind, we can improve the powers of mutants all around the globe. With our advancements, mutants will become more powerful than any measly little human could ever imagine."
"You're sick." John spat the words out with such distaste that even Magneto himself was slightly surprised. The young boy's lip curled up in disgust, his fists clenched in anger. "This isn't work. This is torture."
Magneto heaved a heavy sigh. "I cannot let you interrupt my plans for the future of our kind. If I must get rid of you, boy, I will."
"Burn in hell."
John flew backwards into the wall behind him seconds after the words fell from his lips. His belt, ringed with metal, his chain necklace and bracelets were pinning him against the metal side of the cage, his ankles strapped with stray pieces of steel that had risen and bolted themselves into the wall. Magneto, grinning condescendingly, held his hand outstretched in front of him and stepped slowly through the open cell door.
"I gave you more than one chance to join us." Three small beads of metal, roughly the size of marbles, flew up to hover above Magneto's open palm. "You took none of them. As much as I respect your decision-" the marble-shaped metal balls spun rapidly around, forming a circle above the elderly man's hand- "I can't have you running back to Charles and informing him of my plans."
One of the steel marbles shot forward, piercing John's left shoulder and causing the boy to let out a cry of pain. The marble did not go through his shoulder, however, but it burrowed into his flesh, slithering it's way down his arm just beneath his skin. Magneto smiled cruelly as the boy in front of him writhed in torment, watching in evident satisfaction.
A second marble dug into John's other shoulder, following the same kind of path as the first, until both marbles burst out of his John's palms. The boy screamed, clenching his fists over his wounds and biting his lip to keep from crying. Magneto continued to stand in silence, boredly twirling the metal marbles in the air.
John's vision was clouding over, from pain or loss of blood, or even both. His head was bowed, hanging limply down to his chest. He raised it, with much effort, just in time to see the older man in front of him send yet another steel ball through the air, this time aimed for John's stomach. It hit; and the excruciating pain spread like poison through all of his limbs. His body felt as if it had been set on fire, the flames licking at his skin, and he heard himself let out a shriek of torment. But there was something else; an explosion, something exploding through a nearby wall, the murmurs and whimpering of the girl beside him, and the familiar sound of adamantium claws unsheathing themselves from their built-in case; all of them being the last things he heard before he was completely enfolded in darkness.
But it couldn't be her. It wasn't possible. She was dead. She had left the mansion and she hadn't come back. They'd looked everywhere; even Cerebro couldn't find her. She had been wiped completely off the face of the Earth itself. She looked younger, helpless, delicate; completely opposite of what she used to be. If it was her at all.
From outside the cage, it almost looked as if the cell was empty. The girl had pressed herself as far into the dark corner as she could. All that was left visible were a few dismal features on her once lively face, softly highlighted by the dimmed lights hanging from the ceiling. John's eyes were wide as he watched her, his breathing labored, his knuckles white as he clamped them around the metal bars of the cage. Without taking his eyes off the huddled figure, he brought a hand over to the wall next to the cell and opened the top to the keypad that lay there. The cap flipped open with a faint click, and blindly he punched in the numbers 58226 before bringing his hand down to wrap once again around the steel rods in front of him. He half-consciously noticed the gate next to him open with the soft 'clang' of metal hitting metal, and almost reluctantly tore his gaze away from the girl to stumble inside the cell.
The door remained open as John staggered into the dim-lit cage. The girl had not moved; her eyes were still tightly shut, her arm holding her legs against her chest. Her right hand continued to press firmly against her temple, and she showed no signs of even knowing that someone had entered the room. John found that he preferred it that way; he didn't know what to do in the first place.
Slowly, silently, John kneeled down in front of the curled up figure, tentatively reaching out a hand to rest on the girl's shaking arm. She drew back violently, wrenching away from the touch as if it was poison, and snapped her head up to face the shocked boy. Fear etched itself into her face, her wide blue eyes rimmed with panic as she squeezed herself farther into the corner. John held his hands back, afraid of hurting her, and looked into the girl's eyes, looking for any trace of humanity, a trace of life, of heart and soul.
He found it. And he knew.
"...Cory?"
The girl's head rose up, her gaze having drifted to the floor tiles not long before. Her mouth twitched down into a thoughtful frown and her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to grab at a memory that lie just our of her reach. Bright irises, still edged with terror, flickered with what John thought was recognition, but his doubting mind pushed the trivial idea from his head; until, of course, the girl he thought he knew reached for his hand...
"I always knew you'd betray us, Pyro."
Simultaneously, John and the girl's heads snapped in the direction of the voice, John still kneeling and the girl's hand continuing to hover over his own. The boy's eyes widened as they caught sight of an old man, graying hair slicked back from his forehead and a purple and red cape flowing down from his shoulders. A shudder ran up John's spine, and he stood shakily, sidestepping in front of the girl, who hadn't moved.
"Hey, Mags," he said, forcing his voice to stay even and nonchalant. Magneto merely frowned.
"You're planning on leaving, aren't you, boy?"
"Now, why would I go and do a thing like that? Where else would I go?" John mentally cursed himself for sounding so desperate. Was he that transparent? He flashed a sadistic smirk in an attempt to cover his nervousness.
"Oh, to the mansion, perhaps? I don't doubt that was your intention."
"It wasn't," John replied, rather coldly. His eyes strained to sneak a glimpse at the girl, Cory, his Cory, but he knew it would be risking too much. Then again, Magneto already knew, so what did it matter? He had been planning to return to the mansion, and he had every intention of taking Cory, the girl beside him, along with him; but how had Magneto known? Was it just a lucky guess?
"It's no use lying to me, boy," Magneto sneered, crossing his arms across his chest. "I can see right through you. You got fed up with our little experiments, and decided to try and end our progress once and for all by running back to the same man you ran away from."
"You call this progress?!" John snapped angrily. He was well aware of the fact that he had just proved Magneto's suspicion correct, but at this point he was beyond caring. "This is a human being, Eric. Not an experiment, not a test. She's one of us! She's a mutant, damnit, how the hell can you do this to one of your own kind?!"
"It's for our own good, John. Don't you see it? By working on one of our own kind, we can improve the powers of mutants all around the globe. With our advancements, mutants will become more powerful than any measly little human could ever imagine."
"You're sick." John spat the words out with such distaste that even Magneto himself was slightly surprised. The young boy's lip curled up in disgust, his fists clenched in anger. "This isn't work. This is torture."
Magneto heaved a heavy sigh. "I cannot let you interrupt my plans for the future of our kind. If I must get rid of you, boy, I will."
"Burn in hell."
John flew backwards into the wall behind him seconds after the words fell from his lips. His belt, ringed with metal, his chain necklace and bracelets were pinning him against the metal side of the cage, his ankles strapped with stray pieces of steel that had risen and bolted themselves into the wall. Magneto, grinning condescendingly, held his hand outstretched in front of him and stepped slowly through the open cell door.
"I gave you more than one chance to join us." Three small beads of metal, roughly the size of marbles, flew up to hover above Magneto's open palm. "You took none of them. As much as I respect your decision-" the marble-shaped metal balls spun rapidly around, forming a circle above the elderly man's hand- "I can't have you running back to Charles and informing him of my plans."
One of the steel marbles shot forward, piercing John's left shoulder and causing the boy to let out a cry of pain. The marble did not go through his shoulder, however, but it burrowed into his flesh, slithering it's way down his arm just beneath his skin. Magneto smiled cruelly as the boy in front of him writhed in torment, watching in evident satisfaction.
A second marble dug into John's other shoulder, following the same kind of path as the first, until both marbles burst out of his John's palms. The boy screamed, clenching his fists over his wounds and biting his lip to keep from crying. Magneto continued to stand in silence, boredly twirling the metal marbles in the air.
John's vision was clouding over, from pain or loss of blood, or even both. His head was bowed, hanging limply down to his chest. He raised it, with much effort, just in time to see the older man in front of him send yet another steel ball through the air, this time aimed for John's stomach. It hit; and the excruciating pain spread like poison through all of his limbs. His body felt as if it had been set on fire, the flames licking at his skin, and he heard himself let out a shriek of torment. But there was something else; an explosion, something exploding through a nearby wall, the murmurs and whimpering of the girl beside him, and the familiar sound of adamantium claws unsheathing themselves from their built-in case; all of them being the last things he heard before he was completely enfolded in darkness.